


Malady

by usabuns



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Post Buu Saga by 20+ Years, last wishes, saying goodbye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5318513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usabuns/pseuds/usabuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's on her deathbed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malady

"I wish it didn't have to be this way." And she laughs that hollow laugh she's perfected since being admitted here, that sad smile also making an appearance. The laugh and smile she would give to all of their friends when she'd say 'I'll be fine' or 'It'll turn out okay.' They were empty words, empty expressions. "I wish it could've been different..." She sighs, longingly, and stares at the back of his head wistfully. 

His face is pressed firmly into the sheets on her bed, just inches away from her cold, frail body. He doesn't respond, only wraps his arms around his head tighter. The woman pets his black, spiky hair with her eyes closed, a quivering frown on her lips. 

When she reaches out further, the IV cord tugs at her arm, making her gasp and reel back. The wrinkles on her face make her frown look as if its intensified beyond what is possible. She heaves dryly as she lowers herself onto the pillows again. "Vegeta..." He's started tapping his foot on the blue-checkered, tile floor in slow, methodical beats. 

There are bundles of stuffed animals in the corner of the room, coupled with balloons, piles of cards, boquets upon boquets of roses, carnations, azaleas... In the end, their gifts hadn't made her condition any better. Maybe it gave her some hope, but now it was the end of the line. There was nothing anyone could do about it now. 

"You can't change it, Vegeta. I wish you could, I wish I could, but..." Bulma refuses to continue her statement. It's supposed to be comforting, but she's already failed at that. She pulls the blankets closer to her chilling form, teeth chattering. Everything felt so cold to her now. 

He still looks so young; she's painfully reminded of it in this exact moment. Not a grey hair on his head, nor a wrinkle grazing his skin. 'Saiyans evolved to stay in their peak longer,' he had once said, or something along the lines. They lived longer. Humans weren't so lucky. 

"--It's not fair." Those are the first words she gets out of him today. It's like he's read her mind. With one hand, she scratches the nape of his neck, and with the other she runs a hand through her own dulling, blue locks. "It should've been me."

"No, it shouldn't have." She says it with such valor, and in such a manner that it seems her statement is definite. Vegeta looks up, for just a second, and she sees his bloodshot eyes, the expression that just kills her heart and crushes her soul. Reluctantly, she turns her head away and whispers, "It's better this way."

His whole body tightens up at the words, as if he's about to start sobbing right then and there. "Don't talk like that, Bulma! I'm the one who deserves this, after all the horrible things I've done... You've done nothing to warrant this kind of pain."

Rain patters against the hospital window in tune with the heart monitor to her left. She wonders just how long the machine will keep beeping until it inevitably stops dead. "You need to keep living, to protect this world. I'm insignificant compared to you in that regard. What can I possibly do to save this damn planet..." She doesn't phrase it as a question, but more as an undisputed fact.

Before he can respond, the prince straightens up, his nose scrunching up as if he's just gotten a whiff of some nuclear waste. At once he's standing up defensively, staring intently at the door. There's anger in his eyes now, a growl in his throat. 

There's a quiet, sharp rapping at her door, and at first she thinks it's Trunks or Bra just simply sick of crying and waiting hopelessly in the hall (and that Vegeta's just going to tell them to scram), but the door creaks open to reveal only a sliver of an orange gi, of spiky black hair, of joyful eyes turned heartbroken. 

"Kakarot." There's so much more venom in Vegeta's voice at the word than Bulma could ever remember it having. His face is red with embarrassment. She grumbles to get her husband's attention; when he's looking, she places a finger to her lips, shaking her head in the process. 

"Goku... Please, come on in... It's alright..." She beckons him in with a swift finger movement. He looks a bit awkward, a hand scratching his neck and a card and teddy bear cradled in his arms, but he doesn't look even close to his usual self. Although he still appears just as young, the emptiness in his features makes him look much older. His eyes are dead. 

"Bulma..." Goku rushes to the bed, crouching down at her side, and Vegeta scowls before muttering something about 'that damn clown...' and quietly shutting the door. No one else needed to hear. 

She pulls him close, embracing him, crying silently into his soft, fluffy hair. With her, he's gentle; afraid he'll break her at the slightest notion of physical contact. The bear and get-well card are resting atop her lap, begging to be opened. Little streams of tears flow down his face, but he makes no noise. He sniffles, shuts his eyes, grips her tightly. She's never seen him this sad. 

They release, and it visably looks as if a weight has been lifted off of Vegeta's shoulders. The prince was always the jealous type when Goku got a little bit too 'intimate' with his wife for his liking. In reality, he simply overanalyzed and overreacted to every little thing concerning Bulma. 

Vegeta strolls up to the opposite side of her bed. Goku wipes at his eyes, while she doesn't even bother. What's the point, when there will surely be more water? Now, her husband's face is more sympathetic, more good-natured; it's as if he finds pity (or happiness) in seeing Goku in tears. It is short-lived. 

She gives a little laugh at the pair; rivals until the very end of her life, rivals even the very bleakest of moments. Yet, they were the closest of their little group. Bulma slaps a hand to her forehead wearily. "Ugh...Saiyans..." Goku chuckles as she socks both of the men in the arms.

Moments pass, and it's dead silent. They all simply stare, just enjoying one another's presence. It felt like just yesterday that she met the little monkey boy in the woods, but it had been so long since then. Too long. She had regrets, things she still longed to accomplish, even grandchildren that weren't yet born. It was too late. 

At some point, Vegeta comes over and clasps her hands, his face fallen and his eyes straining to stay shut. Bulma turns to Goku, trying desperately not to tear up at the action. "It was kind of you to stop by. Thank you for that, Goku. And the gifts, too. I'm sorry it has to be like this..." Her expression is one of deep hurt. 

"Don't apologize." He looks down to the ground, playing with his feet. "It was th' least I could do..." She smiles a genuine smile this time. Her breaths become more labored as she lays back down even further. The stark, mint-colored hospital gown that clings shapelessly over her body crinkles with every movement; the sound has begun to irritate her. 

Goku cringes a bit, moving forward. Vegeta eyes him carefully, but does not move. "Do ya need any--"

"--I'm alright..." She breathes in deeply. "I'm okay." No matter how many times she told herself that, though, she knew only the opposite was true. The others knew it as well. Her bones felt like glass, her skin like dust. The sickness had destroyed her body and left no prisoners to its wrath.

Vegeta's eyebrows crease and he turns around, arms crossed; he can't bear to see her in this state. Goku looks back at him, almost calling out words of comfort to him, but decides against it. He crouches down beside her again, balling up some of the bedsheets in his fists. Unbelievable amounts of anger stir up in the pits of his eyes. 

"There's nothing you or anyone else can do..." It's barely audible, but she didn't want Vegeta listening in. Knowing the Saiyans' superb hearing, though, it was likely he could hear their conversation clearly. "You can't save me this time."

Her last sentence makes him tense up, allows a spear to pierce and break his heart. She's the only person he wasn't able to save. She sees the light go out of his eyes, the color from hus face drain. They had changed each others' lives in so many ways. 

He lets Bulma pull his face up. Her stare is hopeless, but accepting. There's no way out, and she's come to terms with it. For the first time, Goku's the one who needs to be cheered up. She chuckles. "Turn that frown upside down! You've still got a lot of your life ahead of you! Embrace it, Goku, for however much you have left. That's my final wish for you."

The laugh he gives back is half-hearted and gloomy; he only does it for her sake. There's no sense in make her sadder and crushing her delusions at this point. "Yeah, okay. It's a promise!" He holds his pinkie finger up and presents it to her. 

Bulma sticks out her tongue and grips his little finger in affirmation. "Oh, Goku..." She ruffles up his hair and he stands back up obediently. "Now for your gifts..." As if he had forgotten about it, he twitches and then lunges for the presents so she doesn't have to lean over. This earns him an eye roll from Bulma, as well as Vegeta, who turned around abruptly as soon as he heard the word 'gifts.' He looks on-edge just a tad. 

The bear is extraordinarily soft and is holding a heart-shaped pillow with the words 'Get Well Soon!' stitched into the fabric. Wholly, it's the size of her bicep and is as light as a feather. The woman hugs it close, savoring in the warm feeling it brings to her body. 

Inside the card is the usual message you'd find in a get well card, but with signatures peppered at the bottom in black ink. Goku, Chi-Chi, Gohan, Videl, Goten, Pan... 

The last name that's signed, she notices, is Vegeta's. How anyone had managed to get him to sign that thing was a mystery to her. 

Still, that one little action melts her heart, gives her a tiny ounce of hope that she'll be okay, that she'll make a miraculous recovery. The notion fades away almost as soon as it appears. 

"Thank you both..." Bulma clasps the card to her chest, smiling in the cheesiest way possible. Both Vegeta's cheeks and ears are glowing a bright red, and he grunts in denial of the act as she swoons over how romantic the gesture is. 

She sets the objects down on her bedside table; Goku seems a bit happier now. But she narrows her brows, signaling unhappiness. Before Goku can ask what's wrong, she calls Vegeta over. "Honey, can you come closer for a second?"

It would be a crime to disobey his poor, bedridden wife, so naturally he follows her command. It's a pity that there's little to no privacy in the hospital room, what with their children outside and nurses pressing their ears to the walls (and the fact that she doesn't have the heart to ask Goku to leave), but she goes ahead and speaks with him anyways. 

Bulma lowers her voice, "You'll take care of them, won't you? You won't leave them to train because I'm gone, will you? You won't abandon them, right?" Her face takes on an almost too serious tone, but she can't help it. She wants answers. 

He stares straight into her eyes while his own widen in mild disbelief. To keep his sense of pride (and present some humor in the situation), he responds with, "I can't believe you'd think so lowly of me, woman. They're my children, too, you know..." For the first time today, he smiles. 

That's enough for her. "Good. That's my last wish for you. Be happy with our kids, Vegeta. Don't let me not being there ruin your fun. And, uh..." She shrugs, and as an afterthought she adds, "Make sure you tell our grandchildren all about me! Only the good parts, naturally..."

She shifts a little under the blankets, straightening up. And Bulma caresses her husband's face in her hands, pulling him so they're only inches away from locking lips. He places his hands atop hers, rubbing them soothingly up and down over her knuckles. 

He leans in, kissing her with everything he has left. It doesn't matter that Goku's watching, doesn't matter that she'll probably be dead within the next few hours. This is all the matters now. 

Their tongues smash together, her chapped, cold lips press against his smooth, warm ones as if she had been waiting to do it all her life. His hands reach up to stroke her hair; it's a pale, drained blue graced with grey hairs, but it is still so endearing to him. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

Once they release, she looks up at Vegeta, and then to Goku, who's smiling like an idiot and has his hands firmly on his hips in an intensity that rivaled Chi-Chi's own famous pose. He stares at the prince knowingly, and the latter grumbles under his breath as he goes red again. 

Bulma really can't help but laugh at the whole predicament; how could these two be grown men when they acted like 12 year olds? "You guys never change, do you?" This prompts Goku to burst out laughing like a madman, while the other covers his face and sighs loudly. Her own cheeks are dusted in a light shade of pink. 

Eventually, they're all just staring at each other again; or, more specifically, Goku and Vegeta are watching Bulma with careful, patient eyes. Her husband gives her one, last, beautiful smile that makes her stomach churn. She smiles back. 

That's how they stand, looming over her with their tear-stained cheeks and their hands encompassing hers, until the heart monitor goes cold.

**Author's Note:**

> WOW. I really love Bulma so this was extremely hard for me to write. I will update my Gochi fic real soon, I promise ! I just have loads of schoolwork right now. 
> 
> Anyways! I hope you enjoyed this somewhat, and feel free to leave any comments/inform me of typos! :D


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